A workman's tale
by Reverand-Manson
Summary: Carl must make his way through the infested town with a pickaxe to save hiss ten year's old son.


Author's note : Resident evil is Capcom's property, I make no money, don't sue me (unless for the crappy rhymes). Oh, and english is not my first language so forgive me for the mistakes I may have forgotten (don't be too rude on that, but you can be on the rest).  
  
The sunlight was declining. Tommy was riding his red bicycle down the street. There was no one out. It felt strange for him, because the district was usually so lively. Tommy had to hurry. Mum would shout after him if he got late for dinner. She would remind him not to go out so long after school, even if it was to play with his best friend Jeremy. And frankly, at the age of ten, he felt old enough to do what he wanted to. So he understood very well the fact that his mom would let him out after dinner if he wasn't late.  
  
There was his house. White with a brown roof, the door was enclosed by violet flowers. His mom's.  
  
Tommy pushed the door and came in. He called for his mother but nobody replied. He started to worry and think if she didn't tell him she wouldn't be there tonight. But no, she would have given him the keys... and locked the door. Tommy got into the drawing-room and sat in front of the T.V. But he didn't turn it on. He just listened to every single sound of the house, wondering whether his mom was home or not.  
  
Carl put up his pickaxe one last time. Then he threw it downwards. The iron pick hit the solid ground strongly. The soil shattered in every direction. The sweaty muscled man in a sleeveless grey shirt heard the bell. It was the end of the day. He put his pickaxe against the wall he was working near and put off his helmet. As he was drinking a sip of water, he heard the noise of a crash behind the wall. There were Marco and Jose working with heavy machinery. He ran over ther and saw what had happened. A cable must have broke and a heavy piece of concreate had hit the floor.  
  
–Marco ! he yelled. Jose ! Is everything allright ?  
  
No answer. He stared at the cabin of the crane and saw two figures fighting. What the hell did they have in mind ? Carl walked to the crane and started to go up the ladder. But as he was half the way up, he felt something pass nearby very fast. Then he heard antother little crash. He looked down and saw Jose on the floor. Not moving. He almost jumped down the ladder, only touching every five rung to slow down. As he hit the ground, he turned around and saw Jose, still not moving. He yelled for help but Marco didn't answer. What happened up there ? Carl put his head near the one of Jose. He wasn't breathing anymore. Carl decided to put him on the back, in order to give him first aid.  
  
Carefully, he turned his friend on the back, put the chin up and blew into his mouth. Nothing happened. He did it again. Still no reaction. He tried to find the pulse but found nothing. He tried again artifical breathing and reanimation but came to no result. He had to call for help. He would find Marco later. Carl ran to his cell phone that was just next to his helmet and his pickaxe. He called directly the hospital at which his wife was working and asked for an ambulance, explaining the situation.  
  
–All our ambulances are busy right now. Everything here is a mess. We'll send you a hellicopter from the next town's hospital.  
  
The woman had stoped the communication. Next town's hospital ? That's Bangor, it's at least fourty miles away from here ! Carl wondered what could have suddenly happened to the city so that all the ambualances were busy. What could create such a mess in such a little town ? It would be at least twenty five minutes before the helicopter arrived. Jose would be dead by then. If he wasn't already. With no conviction, Carl ran back to his friend to try again the reanimation. But he had the surprise to find nothing but a puddle of blood where he had left Jose two minutes ago. He heard footsteps on the right.  
  
–Jose ! What the hell...  
  
He stopped in the middle of his phrase, seeing the destroyed face of his friend. The half of the skin was missing, blood had been spilled everywhere, and a few teeth were missing. But the eyes... the usually colourfull bright eyes seemed now grey and lifeless. The was no expression in them. As Jose came closer, Carl felt fear growing inside. Somehow, he knew that the thing that was walking toward him wasn't his friend anymore. He stepped backward. He ran back to his pickaxe and took it. Jose was still approaching.  
  
–Don't come closer ! You're supposed to be dead. After the fall you did... you weren't breathing anymore... youre face...  
  
But the creature didn't listen, it was only comming closer and closer.  
  
Carl felt a burst of rage and put his pickaxe behind his elbow, as if he was preparing to strike. The iron pick hit Jose in the torso and he felt backward. Carl droped his tool and was already down on his knees, imploring God to forgive him. What did I do ? This is my friend ! He was alive and I finished him... Carl threw up on the arrid soil.  
  
But the creature was moving again. It got up and moaned, hungrily staring at Carl. He picked his pickaxe up again and prepared to strike. This time he hit the head with no hesitation, filled with hate for the creature that had abused him, taking Jose's body. The head was cut off easily. The body made a few more steps before it collapsed, spilling blood on the ground.  
  
Carl looked with fear at his bloody pickaxe. He heard another moan. This one comming from the crane's cabin. He looked up and saw a figure making a step into the chasm and falling down. He ran to it but stoped at five feets, still holding his pickaxe tightly.  
  
To be continued... maybe ? 


End file.
